


You, Me and the Devil

by usuallysunny



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Pregnancy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usuallysunny/pseuds/usuallysunny
Summary: Chloe stared at the stick on the bathroom counter, two pink lines staring right back at her.She tried to predict what Lucifer would do, what he would say, when she told him. She pictured him freaking out, dropping everything and running off to Vegas. She pictured him in deep denial—even despair.What she never pictured, not in a million years, was the bright smile that lights up his face.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 28
Kudos: 604





	You, Me and the Devil

Chloe stared at the white stick on the bathroom counter, two pink lines staring right back at her.

Her heart was in her throat, her eyes wide and unblinking, and one solitary word buzzed through her mind—

_Fuck._

What was she going to do?

It was no secret that her boyfriend—nay, _partner,_ because she wasn't sixteen anymore—wasn't exactly the paternal type.

Lucifer _despised_ children.

He called them urchins or parasites or lifelong burdens. His nose always scrunched up when they were near, his mouth pinching in distaste. He flinched when they touched him, had no idea what made them tick or any understanding of how old they were, and mostly, he just found them very, very _boring_.

The idea of him _fathering_ one was… well, ridiculous.

And yet, here she was, staring down the barrel of a gun.

She was certain the peed-on sticks were taunting her, the pink lines morphing into a cold warning; _he'll run. He'll leave again._

She closed her eyes and released the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. Her hands curled into the sink as she hunched over it, her stomach churning with nerves. She tried to push down the fear, the niggling voice in the back of her mind— _Michael's_ voice. She knew at least part of her fear was down to him, what he had drawn out.

 _He still hasn't said it_ , she suddenly realised, a nausea that had nothing to do with what she had just released into the toilet bowl rising inside her. How could she have a _baby_ with a man who still hadn't told her he loved her? A man who wasn't even a _man_ , but the literal _devil_.

She wiped a hand over her clammy face, her mind spinning with the absurdity of it all.

She glanced up to catch her reflection in the mirror. She looked pale. She look exhausted.

She tried to silence Michael's voice and focus on the positives.

She loved Trixie. She loved being a mother. She loved _Lucifer_. She loved him wholly and completely, all his little eccentricities and the parts of himself he never let anyone else see. She would love his child. It was a part of him and a part of them and even if he hadn't said the words yet, deep down, she knew how he felt. He showed his love in different ways. She didn't doubt them anymore. They'd come so far, she didn't want to slip back into old habits, old insecurities.

Deep down, she knew he wouldn't run away. She knew he wouldn't be cruel or unfair. After-all, she was quite sure he had grown to love Trixie. He protected her and looked out for her and he seemed to genuinely enjoy her company, and Trixie adored him in return.

 _We'll work it out_ , she told herself stubbornly as she splashed some water on her face.

Once the shock and fear started to subside, she realised she was feeling something else.

_Excitement.  
  
_

* * *

  
It was now a painstakingly made list that she stared at.

_Tell him over dinner._

_Text it to him._

_Use a euphemism - knocked up, eating for two, bun in the oven._

~~_Use humour - "if it's a boy, we should call him Damian."_ ~~

_Slip a note under the door._

_Get Trixie to tell him._

She let out a frustrated sigh, scrunching the paper in her hand. It was useless. She needed to man up. She needed to just sit him down and _tell_ him. Rip the band aid off.

Instead, she was hiding in the bathroom again.

"Detective?" Lucifer's voice called through the door, lined with amusement, "far be it from me to comment on your toilet activities, but are you quite alright?"

"Just a minute!" she sang, trying to keep her voice even. Her throat was sore from throwing up, her chest burning, and she'd never had morning sickness with Trixie. She hoped this wasn't a sign of things to come, but then she thought she probably couldn't compare the two. She wasn't in her twenties anymore and this was _Lucifer's_ baby. She made a mental note to ask Linda about her pregnancy. It wasn't like anyone else had experience carrying a celestial being.

She tried to calm her nerves as she washed her hands.

When she finally found the courage to open the door, Lucifer was waiting on the other side. He was leaning casually against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Should I be worried?"

Chloe swallowed, shaking her head slowly.

"Worried?” she asked in a little squeak as she pushed past him, “about what?”

He followed her into the penthouse, watching curiously as she sat down on the sofa. Her leg bounced erratically, her heart in her throat. She needed to tell him.

“Look, I know I’ve been acting—”

He interrupted her, “withdrawn, strange, suspicious—”

“—different,” she narrowed her eyes, finishing the sentence for him.

His mouth quirked at the side.

“Yes,” he agreed, “different.”

He took a step towards her, his eyes dragging down to where her hands were frantically rubbing her thighs. His brow arched in a silent question.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his normally playful tone edged with something more serious, “just tell me. Is it… is it something I’ve done?”

Her eyes darted up to find his, her surprise clear on her face. Lucifer _oozed_ confidence. He was smooth and suave and he _never_ doubted himself. Ever. He was the _Lord of Hell,_ for God’s sake. She almost winced at that.

“Of course not, Lucifer,” she said gently, “you’ve been perfect. You're perfect.”

He nodded but his jaw was still clenched a little tight, his fingers flexing at his sides before he slipped them into his pockets. He was clad in one of his usual expensive, tailored suits—a sharp grey, this time. She thought he looked handsome and strong and the fact that this was the father of her unborn child was still quite bizarre to her. It didn't seem real.

“What then?” he asked, “are you having second thoughts?”

“Second thoughts? About what?”

She watched the movement of his chest as he took a breath and he looked anguished and conflicted and _nervous?_

“About us…” his accent was strong, even as his voice was weak, “about me…”

“Lucifer, _no,_ ” she insisted fiercely and she wanted to go to him, wanted to comfort him, but she didn’t even know how to comfort _herself_ , “I love you, you know that.”

He blinked, taking his hands out of his pockets and walking over to her. When he was standing in-front of her, he pinched the expensive material of his slacks at his thighs and dropped to his haunches. His hands covered hers on her knees, his eyes dark and intense.

“I wish I could just ask you what you desire,” he laughed, but there was little humour in it.

“You don’t need to,” she whispered, “I desire _you,_ I always have. You should never doubt that.”

“Always?” he arched a brow again, “wasn’t there a time you found me... now, what was it… repulsive?”

She pursed her lips to contain her smile.

“I was being stubborn.”

“ _You_ , stubborn?” he mocked, “never, darling.”

She rolled her eyes and squeezed his hands, entwining their fingers.

“There _has_ been something on my mind,” she admitted, “I didn't know how to tell you.”

“Just tell me,” he encouraged gently, one of his hands leaving hers to cup her cheek. The steel of his ring was a soothing balm against her flushed skin. “I can handle it.”

If she could laugh, she would, because she was pretty sure this was the _one_ thing he couldn’t handle.

But she had to try.

“Before I do, I just want you to know that I don’t expect anything. There’s no pressure. You can deal with this any way you need to, I just—I need to say it.”

His brows knitted into a frown but he kept his expression smooth—for her.

“Then say it, Detective.”

She took a breath and prepared to turn their world upside down.

“I’m pregnant.”

 _This is it,_ she thought.

She expected him to freeze. She expected his eyes to widen or his mouth to drop. She expected him to drop her hands like she'd burned him and to back away. Perhaps he would try to cover the reaction up with a cough and force a smile and tell her it was all okay—but she would notice and there would be no going back from that.

She expected all different kinds of reactions.

What she _never_ could have predicted, not in a million years, was the bright smile that lights up his face.

He was clearly surprised, his eyes flashing with it, but then his mouth started to twitch and curve. It was all white teeth and crinkling eyes and when he did open his mouth, all that came out was a disbelieving, _happy_ laugh.

“Really?” he breathed.

Chloe swallowed and nodded, unsure how to react.

“Really.”

He stared at her for a beat, his smile widening again and she swore he’d never _looked_ at her like that before.

She opened her mouth to speak, but his kiss stole her reply.

He reared up onto his knees and his other hand joined her cheek, cupping her face. He pressed his lips to hers, warm and sweet. She had kissed him a hundred times but this felt different. He held her a little tighter, kissed her a little fiercer, and when she pulled back, she felt damp tears on her cheeks.

He wiped them away.

“Why are you crying?”

A little scoff rolled from her chest.

“I just—I didn’t think you would react like this.”

He raised a brow, still smiling warmly.

“How did you think I’d react?”

“It’s no secret you hate kids,” she said dryly, “I didn’t think you’d exactly jump at the chance of having one.”

“Yes, they are quite insufferable,” his mouth pinched sourly, “ _most_ of the time. But I’ve grown rather fond of Charlie and your little offspring. I’ve changed, Detective. Don’t you know that?”

She touched her fingertips to his cheek, felt the grit of his stubble rough underneath them.

She did know that. He was kind and strong and a far cry from the devil she once knew.

“Lucifer, how did this even happen?”

His eyes flashed and he smirked, a suggestive look flickering over his features. She almost rolled her eyes. _There he is._

“Well Detective, when a man and a woman like each other very much…”

“Yes, thank you,” she shoved him slightly; he barely budged, “I just mean… come on, how has this never happened to you before? You’ve been with an insane number of women.”

“But none of them were _you_ ,” he said gently, “you’re different. We’re different.”

She smiled, a warmth spreading through her chest.

“I’m scared,” she admitted.

“I am too,” she was surprised to hear him reply, “it won’t be easy—but the things that are worth it rarely are.”

“You’re happy?” she asked nervously, tentatively, still unable to believe it.

His mouth twitched under his beard again.

“I’m happy, darling,” he murmured softly and leaned in to kiss her again, “I find myself quite… _excited_ at the prospect of becoming a _daddy_. Who knew?”

She laughed, a lump in her throat. She liked the sound of that.

The lump turned into tears again when he slowly kissed down her neck, to the hollow of her throat, and finally settled on her flat stomach. Her hand went to the top of his head, her fingers slipping through soft strands of dark hair.

“You’re always surprising me,” she said softly, “do you want a boy or a girl?” 

He hummed against her stomach—a deep, husky sound.

“I don’t care,” he said, “I suppose I would like a little girl as clever and strong as your existing offspring. But then, I suppose my son would look like me, and wouldn’t that be a treat for the world? In-fact, I don’t know why I never considered it before. It would be a _travesty_ to let these genes end with me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Chloe chuckled, because he _was._

Her laugher died in her throat, melting into a surprised yelp, as he suddenly growled and stood, taking her with him. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her arms winding around his neck and holding on tight. He carried her effortlessly, as though she weighed little more than a doll.

“I love Trixie,” he said then, his tone sincere, and she realised it was the first time he’d actually said her name, “and I will love our child… just as I love you.”

Her chest felt too tight, an overwhelming rush of relief and love coursing through her.

“You’ve never said that before,” she whispered.

“Forgive me,” he replied.

She did.

And when his daughter was born all those months later, he kissed her and said it again, murmured along with a _thank you._

**Author's Note:**

> Because Lucifer as a daddy is my kryptonite😭 and the world is shit right now so I think we need a little fluff...


End file.
